


Upside Down

by lifliflifr



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Light-Hearted, M/M, sort of cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 09:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17041523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifliflifr/pseuds/lifliflifr
Summary: In which Mike bumbles through the motions of courtship without realizing it, but that's okay because Harvey's charmed anyways.





	Upside Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for 2018 Marvey Secret Santa, for lesbianchrispine who asked for "friends to lovers, first time, UST to RST".
> 
> I tried my best to fulfill the prompt, though it kind of turned out more cracky than I intended it to be. Hope you like your gift, and happy holidays!

It's a little more than two hours past midnight when Mike finds himself plastered against the wall of the elevator, hard enough that it will probably leave a rather artistic imprint of his face on the glass afterwards.

Harvey, being who he is, comments on it with a sigh. "If you would kindly detach yourself from my elevator, that would be much appreciated."

Mike, being who he is, just ignores his boss and keep his eyes glued to the glass. He's never been particularly keen on maintaining social decorum even in the best of times. And now, with one half of him intoxicated from sleep deprivation and the other half virtually dead from the hectic activities of the entire month, he finds his limbs both loose and heavy at the same time. His self-restraint is more than a little impaired - which is probably why he is doing what he is right now, plastering himself up against Harvey's glass elevator wall like it holds the secret to life.

Which it probably does, knowing Harvey. The man has a private elevator after all. It's not that big of a stretch for him to have also hidden the secret of life away from the mere mortals who clamors around him, deeming them to be too beneath him to care. Although that's not really fair. Mike is fairly certain that Harvey does care about him in some vague and obscure fashion, or at least enough to not toss him off a building - though the growing scowl that Harvey is sending him puts that into some doubt. He gives their surroundings an evaluating look. Harvey wouldn't toss him off this building, he decides, because that would involve breaking the glass of his precious elevator - which, again, it's a private elevator! It would cost a fortune to fix.

Mike mentions this to him, just in case he doesn't know.

"Yes, I'm aware it's a private elevator," Harvey says, his tone drier than necessary. "You've mentioned it before. Many times, in fact. All within the past minute or so."

Right. Mike does recall doing that. Whoops. He must be more sleep-deprived than he thought. He returns to ogling through the glass, because at least it doesn't judge him. He caresses the wall lovingly as a thank-you for its non-judgement, ignoring the audible sigh emitted from behind him and the muttering about fingerprints.

From this height, New York in the night time is a sight to behold. The continuous flow of the traffic looks a bit like constellations in the sky, or a sea of shimmering lights. He's not particularly familiar with Manhattan, apart from the few times he has visited Harvey uninvited only to get a door slammed shut on his nose. But there's a growing fondness in his heart for this view, a view that he probably would have never gotten to enjoy if not for the odd turn his life has taken since he has met Harvey.

"We're here." Those words are punctuated by the ding of the elevator door opening, revealing the equally pristine and well-illuminated interior. The light must be short-circuiting his brain right now, because it takes a few seconds for him to register the glare being leveled in his direction. "Off. Now."

"What- oh."

Mike detaches himself from the elevator wall, only to re-attach himself to the enormous windows inside Harvey's condo, because - wow, Harvey literally has glass walls!

There's something to be said about heights and adrenaline rush, something in one of those textbooks Mike has read when he was still taking tests for people as a part-time job. It involves a rather clinical take on the phenomenon of mile-high club, one that sucks the fun out of it in his opinion, but it leaves him invariably jealous of all the women Harvey has probably given the same private elevator treatment, shown around the condo, and ended up in the man's bed. Um. Not that he is jealous of the bed part, of course - though Harvey's bed alone is probably worth more than what Mike would make in a year. But he's still miffed about having the door slammed on his face during his last visit, and the idea of anonymous women being allowed the privilege that he has only been able to achieve today is a little demoralizing.

Footsteps alert him of Harvey finally moving to join him by the windows. Mike turns a little to acknowledge the other's presence, but his gaze remains fixated on the view. Feeling suddenly tongue-tied, he blurts out, "Your walls are made out of windows."

Ugh. He blames exhaustion for that remark.

"Shut up, Mike."

The words are stern, though when Mike sneaks a peek at Harvey, the expression on his face softens the blow. There's the tiny smirk that always sits so well on his face, but the frosty edge behind it is warmer than usual and his tone is almost playful. If this is what Harvey shows to all the women he brings home, no wonder so many of them flock to him at social events. Or maybe they were all just wooed by the private elevator, because he himself is already a little in love with it.

"Consider me wooed," Mike says, and snickers a little. He always gets in a giggly mood after being sleep-deprived for too long, and honestly, he's still not sure that he hasn't hallucinated all of this. Maybe he's actually lying in a ditch somewhere, and this is all just a dream. Nobody knows for sure, really.

Harvey takes one look at him, and shakes his head. "You're practically useless right now. I don't know why I thought it'd be a good idea to bring you here. It's clear that you won't get any work done today."

"Work? I can work," Mike objects and pushes himself up. Unfortunately, what he doesn't account for is the fact that the window has been holding most of his weight before then, and when he removes himself from it, there is nothing stopping him from face-planting onto the ground because he legs have turned into jelly a long time ago.

Gravity apparently fails to do its job, because Mike finds himself staring almost cross-eyed at the floor as he somehow seems to be floating inches above it before the impact can hit. Two arms haul him back up, and he finds himself facing almost nose-to-nose with a Harvey who looks less than amused with the situation at hand.

"Hi," Mike says.

With that, he finds himself unceremoniously dropped onto the couch. He makes a startled noise as a pillow and a blanket falls on top of his head. He fights to not drown in them for a moment, and when he finally manages to get them off his face, he sees an upside-down Harvey frowning at him.

"Sleep, rookie," Harvey orders.

"W-wait," Mike stammers, struggling with his sleep-dazed brain to remember something. Right, Harvey brought him back home to work. It's a part of the toll he has to pay, to finally get the privilege of entering the condo. "The case-"

"-Can wait until tomorrow, when you're less useless."

"I'm not useless. I'm very impressive," Mike argues. It's true; his boss has even admitted it on some rare occasions, usually after some last minute manoeuvre of his eidetic memory that ends up saving the day. So he furrows his eyebrows, and tries to get his brain to come up with something interesting. "I know the phone number of seven good pizza places in Manhattan that's still open right now and also does delivery."

Harvey raises an eyebrow. And honestly, how does he still look so immaculate when Mike is virtually in his deathbed right now? "I think you should leave the impressing to tomorrow."

"Can't. Gotta pay my toll."

"The toll."

"Yeah," Mike babbles, words slurring together as he feels his eyes droop shut. "Gotta pay my toll. You know. Because your condo is the bridge. And you're the toll. No, I mean, you're the troll. And work is the toll. That rhymes. And the... somethin' is the bridge... so as a price of the ... el'vator... I gotta... finish the case and... impress..."

 

Harvey stares at the unconscious face of his associate, who has been babbling incoherently about trolls and bridges only seconds ago. To his consternation, a warm feeling swells up in his chest, and he has to make a concentrated effort not to let the laughter slip out of the twitching corners of his lips.

Leaning down, he picks up the blanket that has fallen off the couch and drapes it gently over Mike's body. He picks up the pillow too, and shifts the other's head so that he can place the pillow beneath it. He looks down, taking in the tousled hair, the dark patches beneath the eyes, the crumpled suit, and the almost idiotic expression on the drooling face.

"Consider me impressed," Harvey says fondly, and leaves Mike to rest.

 

In the morning, Harvey wakes up to the noise of rummaging coming from his living room. He's immediately jolted out of his drowsy haze and straight into alertness, mind running through various scenarios of burglary before the memory of yesterday catches up to him and he groans. After confirming his hunch that the figure sitting in front of his TV cabinet is indeed his nosy associate, he goes to get cleaned up for the day.

Mike greets him on his way to the kitchen, looking a little too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for someone who has been imitating a zombie only five hours ago.

"I can't believe you have every single installment of Star Trek in your collection. Multiple editions even."

"Not another word," Harvey warns. He glares mutinously at his coffee maker, which seems to be operating slower than usual that morning. Contrary to the image he likes to uphold and intimidate people with, he is by no means a morning person. And if his associate continues to babble at him at such a rapid-fire pace, he's going to find some way to defenestrate the kid, consequences be damned.

Mike opens his mouth, and Harvey holds up a finger in silence.

Mike opens his mouth again, and Harvey musters up the deadliest glare in his arsenal.

Finally having realized the imminent danger of ticking off his boss, Mike mimes zipping his mouth shut. Or not, because he then immediately unzips his mouth, loudly whispers: "Nerd," and then zips it shut again. When Harvey makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl, Mike just darts away from the kitchen, snickering like a child.

Harvey shakes his head, once again hit with the realization that he has hired somebody with the mental age of a six years old to be his associate. Although, in spite of all the trials and tribulations they have gone through due to their mutual secret, he finds it hard to regret the decision he has made on that day.

Having acquired coffee, he takes it with him as he goes to bathe in the sunlight coming through the windows of the living room. It's where he usually drinks his coffee in the mornings, as he especially enjoys the view of the city skyline that his penthouse apartment affords him. Except this morning, when he tries to gaze out through his window, the vaguely grotesque imprint of somebody's face stares back at him.

"Sorry."

Mike smiles sheepishly as he joins Harvey by the window, a faintly red hue colouring his cheeks.

Never being one to let things go easily, Harvey snipes back. "What a miracle. The puppy shows embarrassment for once."

Mike winces. "Can we just forget everything that I've done yesterday? Please?"

"I don't know," Harvey says dryly. "It's rather hard to do so with such a fine artistic rendition of the previous day's events right in front of us, isn't it? A rather avant-garde approach I have to say, showing influence of the absurdist movement as well as a touch of postmodernism. I'm considering framing it for posterity. The one you left in my elevator too."

"You're a dick." Mike groans. "Cut me some slack. Sleep-deprivation is a hell of a drug."

Not disagreeing with that, Harvey just sips his coffee in contentment, having indulged enough in his favourite activity of tormenting his minion to satiate himself for now. Unfortunately, the aforementioned minion also isn't one to let things go easily.

"It's not that bad."

"Uh huh."

"Besides, it's the face of your favourite associate- "

"Also my least favourite associate."

"-Your favourite associate, immortalized in art form. You should be happy." Mike grins cheekily, never knowing when to shut up.

"Happy," Harvey says slowly, tasting the word in his mouth.

There's a subtle shift in the air, something that feels like static electricity but both lesser and greater the same time. Mike continues rambling, seemingly oblivious to it. "Because it's a very handsome visage. Since my face is handsome. And you get to have it on your window wall. And elevator. And, uh."

Harvey tilts his head, interested in seeing how much deeper of a hole the other can dig.

"So that's why you should be happy. Because I'd be happy too if it were the other way around. Not that I have an elevator. Or a penthouse. Or window walls. I barely have a window. But hypothetically speaking, if I did and your face were to hypothetically make contact with. The hypothetical walls. Um. That is. I mean."

Then again, maybe the kid is not so oblivious to the tension, what with the growing fluster and interesting shade of red he is turning.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Mike covers his face with his hand. "Can we also pretend the last few minutes of our conversation never happened?"

Let it be known that Harvey has made a valiant effort to maintain the image of a hardass boss in front of his underling, but the laughter that escapes from his chest is threatening to blow all of his hard work away. His associate's antics are an endless source of entertainment for him. "Mike, you're an idiot."

Mike winces. "It's been said before."

"We really need to work on stopping you from putting your foot in your mouth. Any of that behaviour in court, and we'll be laughed straight out of the building."

"Right. Yes. Solid plan, chief."

When his associate tentatively offers to clean up the smudges on the glass with a wet paper towel, Harvey has to put his foot down before the mess turns from horrific to catastrophic, and tells him that the cleaning service will deal with it. Honestly, the smudge isn't that conspicuous, and he's mostly ragging on his associate because torture is sometimes fun when the subject of said torture is someone whose name starts with M and rhymes with a two-wheeled vehicle that said person rides to work everyday.

"Besides," Harvey gives him a sideways smirk. "You do have 'soft features'."

With a last sip that drains the rest of his coffee, Harvey takes the empty mug back to the kitchen sink, leaving a flabbergasted associate behind floundering in his wake.

"You! You're evil!" Mike announces, once his brain finally restarts itself.

"'Without followers, evil cannot spread,'" Harvey quotes, enjoying the glare being leveled in his direction. "Now come along, my follower. There's work to be done."

Today is a good day, Harvey thinks as he proceeds to bury Mike in an avalanche of casework.

At the end of the day when they finally finish everything, his associate leaves the condo looking harried and vaguely traumatized, so he considers it a job well done. Hopefully, this experience would serve as a deterrent to prevent Mike from turning up at his condo ever again. It would do well to re-establish some distance between them after letting the other sleep on his couch.

Harvey goes to sleep that night, satisfied with the productivity of the day.

Unfortunately, Harvey has underestimated the paradox that is Mike Ross, as well as the unique twist and turns that transforms rational logic into bizarre amalgamations inside his brain. Because the very next day, on his off-day, there is a knock at the door before lunch time. When he opens the door, he is met with the eager-to-please grin of a bright-eyed associate, juggling boxes of pizza and DVDs between his hands.

"What," Harvey says.

"Hi. Long time no see," Mike says as he pushes his way inside.

After a moment of questioning reality, Harvey follows. Maybe he's hallucinating, having spent so long going through paperwork with Mike yesterday that his mind is conjuring up its own rendition of his brilliant but exceedingly idiotic associate. Either way, one of them seems to be going insane here, and at this point of time, he's not sure which is which. "Exactly what do you think you're doing here?"

"Pizza!" Mike declares, as he sets the box down on the tabletop. Without waiting for permission, he starts to peruse through various kitchen cabinets, eyes brightening as he brandishes out two plates. "From the best pizza place here in Manhattan."

That answers approximately none of Harvey's questions. He opens his mouth, ready to give the other an unpleasant dressing-down, but what comes out of his mouth is: "You don't even live in Manhattan. How would you know where the best pizza place is?"

"It's a trade secret. If I tell you, I will have to kill you."

"Mike."

"Mmh? Hey, you have some serious alcohol collection in here." The kid is distracted by something else inside another cabinet. "Wow, I saw this in an auction once, except it's from a different year. I think that bottle went for-"

"Mike!"

Jumping slightly, his associate finally turns to to look at him.

"Do we need to have a discussion about professional boundaries again?"

"Uh." Harvey can practically see the gears turn inside the other's head. Realization must have hit, because Mike slowly closes the cabinet door with a slightly guilty look on his face. "Oh. Sorry? I thought- Should I go?"

Harvey takes a long look at the pizza box on the table, the DVDs scattered around it (he and Mike have similar tastes in films), the clean plates set aside for the two of them, and the deer-in-the-headlight look on the kid's face. While it's his day off, he has no plans scheduled, and the smell emitting from the pizza is very tempting. Already, he feels himself regretting the decision, even before he says it out loud.

"You said that this is the best pizza place in Manhattan."

Mike fidgets. "Um. Yes?"

"Well I'll be the judge of that." Harvey sits down next to the table, and opens the box. It appears rather standard as far as pizzas go, but the aroma does make his mouth water a little. "I'm tossing you out if it's not. And Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, call ahead before you decide to barge into my place and raid my kitchen without my permission."

The stern expression on Harvey's face should hopefully convey the threat of bodily harm should the other fail to do so, but instead of being properly chastised for the social faux pas, Mike beams back at him.

"You said 'next time'."

Thinking back on his exact wording, Harvey groans. "No."

"You did! No take-backs. Admit it, you love it when I visit you. You live for it."

"I will admit to no such thing. Need I remind you of what happened yesterday, when you face-planted onto my elevator and then onto my window?"

Mike scowls at the reminder. "No, because that never happened. I thought we agreed to never talk about that again."

"Now that's just bad lawyering. I don't recall signing any agreement of the sort."

"If it's bad lawyering, you should take it up with my mentor. He's a sadist and likes to throw me into the deep end without even teaching me how to float first."

"Hmm, I'd love to meet this person you call your mentor. He sounds like a rather exceptional man."

"An exceptional man you say?" Mike says, voice low. There's a playful smirk on his face, and Harvey will never admit that he likes that look on his associate's face. It tugs at some instinctual part of him - makes him want to rise up to the challenge.

Harvey leans in, close enough to be distracted by the dilation of the other's pupils and the tiny hitch of breath. "In every single way."

As if breaking out of a spell, Harvey blinks rapidly and draws back. Huh, interesting.

"In every single way alright." Mike is a little red, though he doesn't seem to be aware of it as he snipes back. "The most exceptional part being his ego, you mean."

The banter continues as they eat. Eventually, after another hard-fought verbal battle, Mike gets Harvey to grudgingly admit that the pizza is "adequate", and thus Mike won't be thrown out just yet. To his consternation, his associate refuses to reveal the location of the supposed best pizza place in Manhattan, citing obscure privacy laws as defense.

"Gotta keep some mystery alive in this relationship," Mike says with a wink.

Harvey shakes his head, willing to yield for now. "And they say romance is dead."

 

Thus signifies the start of a beautiful friendship - or so Mike says.

When asked, Harvey would glower at him and tell him "Mike, get out of my office" in a pissed off voice, but he knows the real truth. Because when it comes down to it, unlike people, statistics doesn't lie (unless presented in a misleading fashion - which he totally isn't doing), and this time, the statistics are on his side. Because ever since that day, the probability of Harvey returning his fist-bump instead of leaving him hanging has increased by a factor of two.

Throughout his life, Mike hasn't had many close friends. Something about the terrifying accuracy of his memory or the way he never knows when to keep his mouth shut tend to push a lot of his former friends away. But unlike them, Harvey only seems to be impressed when he recites some obscure sub-clause of a legal document word for word. And as much as his boss threatens to tan his hide for mouthing off, he still hasn't died yet after all these months. He also hasn't died after leaving an unflattering imprint of his face on Harvey's glass elevator, which means he's as good as immortal by now. Plus, Mike has been able to drop by to hang out more and more often without the door being slammed in his face, which supports the idea that they're basically best bros.

(Not that he will ever say that in Harvey's presence. He's not all that enthusiastic about testing out his newly-minted immortality.)

Mike hasn't had a best friend since he and Trevor have parted on bad terms, and the idea of having potentially found a new one makes him giddy in unexpected ways. Sometimes, he finds himself smiling at nothing in particular as he walks down the halls, causing Louis to yell at him for having his head in the cloud all the time. He's also been more distracted than usual, tripping over the thin air at least once a day - usually in the presence of Harvey. It's not the associates playing a prank on him this time, because some of them are starting to give him worried looks, like they are questioning his sanity.

"Hey Louis. Good day isn't it?" Mike cheerfully greets the man, whose face is frozen in a sneer, no doubt having interrupted a snide remark about to be directed his way.

A little worried when the man remains motionless after a few seconds, he lightly pats the other's shoulder and walks around. Huh, it seems like Louis is going through some stuff. He'd better leave the poor guy alone.

Donna stops him on his way to Harvey's office. She has a peculiar expression on her face as she stares at the extra cup of coffee in his hand. "Kid, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Sure I do," Mike responds automatically. Then his brain catches up. "But - just for the sake of conversation, what am I doing exactly?"

"Clueless." She shakes her head, and waves him off.

Walking into the office, Mike sets a cup down in front of his boss, who looks surprised by the sudden appearance of coffee in his periphery. "Hey Harvey, do you know why Donna and Louis are acting so weird?"

"Weird? I should be asking you that. Do you know why half of the associates just came over to me to report that you're possessed by an evil spirit?"

Huh. He takes it back. It looks like the associates are pranking him after all. "Evil spirits like innocent souls. They'll just starve to death in a law office."

A quiet huff of amusement is drawn from Harvey, causing Mike to grin wider until the other gives him a look.

"That."

"What?"

Harvey smirks, looking like how he usually does when he finds a solution to a puzzle. "Stop smiling so much. It's scaring the associates."

"I'm not smiling," Mike says, smiling.

"Yes you are. The associates aren't used to any signs of happiness in the bullpen. It's cruelty to treat them to such a sight. No wonder they think you're possessed."

"Ouch. Another jab against my face." Mike clutches his chest in mock pain. "If you keep this up, I'm gonna think you have something against my face."

"Hmm, not at all. I would say it's -," Harvey pauses meaningfully, giving him an evaluating look that makes his face feel hot all over. "-Adequate."

Mike blinks. "I can't tell if that's an insult or just a backhanded compliment."

"Neither. Now are you done quibbling? I'm starting to think I haven't assigned enough work to you if you have time to come here to chit-chat."

"No! I mean yes, I have enough work," Mike quickly amends, panicking slightly. Speaking from experience, threats of increasing workload is never something to be taken lightly. Though he still furtively looks around the room for something to talk about, because he doesn't want to leave just yet. "I mean, I don't mind if you work me in some other way."

Harvey pauses in middle of taking a sip of coffee, cup still suspended in midair and lips parted as he turns his head to stare at Mike.

"I meant at your place," Mike blurts out. "Hanging out. With movies and pizza. And work too, of course. That's what I meant by working in some other way. Not that there's any other way to interpret that sentence. Because work is just work, meaning 'to perform work or fulfill duties regularly for wages or salary' - although there are actually at least twelve different definitions of 'work' in the Merriam-Webster dictionary, some of which, that is to say, um. Yeah, I'm just gonna shut up now."

Distantly, he hears a noise that sounds like someone is laughing at him. It's either Donna or the sound of his last remaining shred of dignity dying a slow, torturous death. Maybe both. Now would be a good time for the ground to swallow him whole. ...Please?

"Mike."

Mike winces. "Yes?"

But before Harvey can say the words that would soon spell his doom, Louis barges into the office.

"Harvey, is it true that your associate is performing demonic rituals and summoning evil spirits to terrorize everyone in the building? That's a workplace hazard and I won't stand for it!"

Taking that distraction as the gift that it is, Mike walks very quickly out of the room while Harvey's attention is diverted. He's greeted by the sight of Donna, trembling with laughter and wiping tears from her eyes.

"Donna," Mike says, looking dolefully at her. "What am I doing?"

Patting his arm lightly in consolation, Donna says, "You're figure it out."

Mike slumps his shoulders. Maybe the associates are right, and he actually is possessed by evil spirits. That might explain why he's been tripping all over himself around Harvey recently.

 

To both Mike's relief and dismay, Harvey doesn't act any different around him, although he doesn't bring up that conversation again. Their workplace dynamics doesn't falter, and they are as amazing of a team as ever. Outside of work, they still hang out on the rare days when both of them are free, although sometimes Harvey would give him an inscrutable look every once in a while.

Mike still puts his foot in his mouth on a daily basis, leading to a lot of incredulous stares in his direction. In fact, just yesterday, he has accidentally told Harvey to put "me" on his to-do list, instead of "it" - which is meant to refer to the work, and not him as a person. At least Donna was entertained.

But yeah, Mike attributes it to being an overworked associate.

Though that doesn't explain the discontent that stirs in the pit of his stomach when he sees Harvey chatting with a woman at one of the social events that he is dragged into.

Logically, he knows that the conversation and the charm is perfunctory, something Harvey does all the time to make good with important clients and establish new connections. But the woman has one arm on his boss's biceps, and as words are exchanged, she leans in closer and closer with a heavy gleam in her eyes. Although her advances have so far been ignored, Mike knows that Harvey has had a long line of flings, and would more than welcome beautiful women into his bed. The problem is that they were supposed to finish watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy today after the party is over, and as time passes, the likelihood of that happening seems to be decreasing further and further.

Mike scowls down at the plate of sliders that he has secured for himself, and aggressively takes a bite. This is bad. He is turning into that person who gets jealous whenever his best friend starts dating someone. It appears to be a relatively new development, since he's never had this issue when Trevor was dating Jenny.

"Don't look so glum. It sends a bad message to the clients."

Looking up, he sees that Harvey has somehow managed to disentangle himself from the woman, and is heading this way. The man's suit is immaculate as always, and not a hair seems to be out of place. He's holding a wine glass, but Mike knows from experience that it's more for show than anything since he doesn't like having his judgement inhibited when dealing with million-dollar clients.

"Done making your rounds?" Mike says, eyes focused on the tiny crinkle on the other's suit where the woman had grabbed earlier. It's barely visible, but somehow all of his attention seems to hone in on this one spot - this minuscule imperfection that somehow detracts from the whole.

"My eyes are up here."

Jolted out of his thoughts, Mike looks up to see Harvey smirking at him in thinly-veiled amusement, and his heart skips a beat. At some point when he's not paying attention, his heart has begun beating faster and faster. Huh, weird. That can't be normal.

"Right," Mike says stupidly, feeling strangely vulnerable and yet unable to look away. "Are we gonna leave now?"

Without dignifying that with a reply, Harvey gives his half-finished glass to a waiter and walks towards the exit, leaving Mike scrambling after him. The air outside is pleasantly cold, though Mike suspects that it's mostly due to how warm his whole body seems to be right now. He hasn't realized it before, but his palms are hot and sweaty. Probably because he spent the past twenty minutes sulking in a corner with his fist clenched, he thinks. Either that, or he's really come down with a fever. That might explain his unusual heartbeat earlier.

Harvey hails a taxi, and they get on together, spending most of the trip back to his condo in comfortable silence.

"I didn't realize you were so invested in Frodo and Samwise's journey," Harvey says when they exit the taxi. "I was worried that Ms. Harris would burst into flames if you had glared any harder."

"Wh- I was not glaring at her," Mike protests, mostly for the sake of protesting. "I was glaring at you. Just as a reminder that we've got a perfectly good film waiting for us, so you shouldn't get too comfortable over there." Worried about coming off as too clingy, he quickly amends. "I mean, not that you shouldn't be able to spend time with whoever you choose to, of course. It's just that we totally had an appointment first."

Harvey closes his eyes briefly, and turns to fully face Mike. "Donna is right."

"Donna's usually right. What's this about?"

"I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius." All of a sudden, Harvey is standing a lot closer, his presence looming in a way that sends a shiver down Mike's back. "But it seems like your ingenuity is only exceeded by your idiocy, or at least where reading people is concerned."

"Why is it that every time you compliment me, I feel insulted?"

"Better get used to it. There's a lot more where that comes from."

"Um?" Mike jumps a little when Harvey reaches for his hands. He watches motionlessly as fingers press against his clammy palms, tracing the slight indent left behind by his nails from clenching his hands too hard. There's probably an unvoiced question in there, but he doesn't have an explanation for any of his behaviour recently. "Sorry, I don't know why I've been acting so weird lately, but don't believe in anything Louis says. I haven't joined a cult or anything, and lamb blood is just plain unsanitary. Though maybe the associates are right about me being possessed because-"

"Mike," Harvey interrupts. His tone is serious enough that it commands Mike's attention immediately, babbling faltering in the wake of those heavy set of eyes. "While I'd like to think that I have a pretty good read on the situation, just to be safe, I want you to know that whatever happens next, whatever your reaction is, this won't affect your standings at work."

"Okay?"

"Good."

With that, Harvey kisses him, and everything else subsequently disappears.

Oh.

When they break off the kiss, Mike groans and hides his face in Harvey's neck. The arm around him is warm and comforting, though it doesn't do anything to lessen his embarrassment as his brain decides that now is a good time to show him a powerpoint presentation of all of his past actions, frame by frame pointing out the infatuation evident in every single one of his unusual behaviour. He's never going to live this one down.

"You're right," Mike says. "I'm an idiot."

It's not even his first time falling for someone, though all of the previous cases have been decidedly female. Plus, he's never felt this kind of pull before - this kind of intensity that makes his skin feel like it's burning every where he's being touched. Trust Harvey to aim for number one in everything, even when the man isn't aware of the ranking.

"You don't even know how tempting you were," Harvey growls in his ear. "Flirting with me so brazenly in front of the entire law firm like that. I couldn't decide if I wanted to throw you out for your cheekiness or throw you onto my table and have my way with you. Though granted, your lines were so terrible that I wasn't sure if you weren't playing a joke on me at first."

"To be fair," Mike defends weakly, too distracted to think properly. Those arms around him are decidedly less comforting and more possessive now, though he can't say that he minds. "I didn't even know I was flirting, or I would've worked in my lines a lot more. Nobody told me. Why didn't you tell me?"

"To be fair," Harvey gives him a look. "People don't usually flirt so aggressively without knowing that they're flirting either."

He can't argue against that. "Touché."

"Looks like you're an overachiever in every single subject, rookie." Harvey presses his lips against Mike briefly, and then gives him a tiny but genuine smile that sends his heart fluttering. "Come home with me?"

"Of course." Mike clears his throat. "Gotta redeem my skills somehow, don't I?"

They enter the building, keeping their hands to themselves until they enter the elevator. Mike moves first, pulling Harvey closer by the tie, secretly relishing the privilege of being able to wrinkle those pristine clothes without a consequence - apart from an outraged look that he immediately kisses away. His fingers wrap around the other's biceps - that spot where the woman had been clinging to earlier in the evening - and claims it as his own.

Never being one to be outdone, Harvey does something with his tongue that has Mike losing sense of himself, and before he can blink, he finds himself pressed against the glass wall of the elevator, a mouth trailing down the back of his neck. The scenario is very reminiscent of the first time he was allowed in this elevator, he thinks giddily. Except this time, instead of trying to pry him off the wall, Harvey is doing a phenomenal job of flattening him onto it.

There will probably be another imprint of his face on the glass later for the cleaning service to deal with. But at this point, Mike has more important things on his mind.

"In the interest of disclosure, I've never done this before," Mike says when they break free from another kiss. "With another man, I mean. I didn't even know I was into guys, but-" he peers down. "-That's obviously not the case."

It still feels a little surreal, like he's inside a dream where everything is upside down and inside out. But everything has felt like a dream since the day he accidentally dumped a suitcase full of pot at Harvey's feet in the middle of an interview - a dream that he doesn't want to wake up from.

"The night is young," Harvey says with a smirk. "But we don't have to do anything if you don't want to. There's always that film we need to finish. I'm sure we can find some other way to occupy our time."

It warms his heart to hear those words, but Mike shakes his head. He presses himself against the other man, to demonstrate just how enthusiastic he is. "Frodo and Samwise can wait. But now? I gotta redeem myself and impress you with some real pick-up lines."

The elevator opens as Harvey laughs. "You've already impressed me, rookie. This has to be the single-most unique way I've ever been flirted at before."

"Hey, it worked," Mike shrugs, but he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Harvey smirks at him, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him into the condo. "That it has."


End file.
